


Sixth Day

by thebasement_archivist



Category: JAG, The X-Files
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-08-31
Updated: 2001-08-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 15:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11338422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: JAG's AJ Chegwidden and X-Files' Walter S. Skinner: Two strong-willed men fighting for their lives and their sanity.





	Sixth Day

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Sixth Day by Sylvie

Sixth Day  
By Sylvie  
Feedback to   
Rating: NC-17 - Slash   
Warning! This story contains graphic sexual activity between two men.   
Disclaimers: JAG and its characters are the property of Donald P. Bellisario, Paramount Studios and CBS. X-Files and its characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Production and Fox Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made. Please do not redistribute this story without the author's consent.  
Summary: JAG's AJ Chegwidden and X-Files' Walter S. Skinner: Two strong-willed men fighting for their lives and their sanity. 

* * *

"And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness... So God created man in His own image, in the image of God, He created him ... And God blessed them, and said unto them, be fruitful and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it..." 

"And God saw everything that He had made, and behold, it was very good ... And the evening and the morning were the sixth day." 

~~~

Vietnam  
There was no doubt in his mind that the gods were angry - that is, if you believed in that kind of thing. He was used to the rain, a light rain that lasted most of the afternoon and evening this time of year - in the jungle. Had he been here, in this lushly beautiful but deadly place so long that he knew the weather patterns? God! He was tired of this. It was time to go home... or to die. 

The dense foliage made good cover. Water dripped off of it and down his back, adding just a little bit of frosting to the giant piece of misery cake he had been forced to consume that night. It had rained all afternoon, the treacherous paths made even more obscure by occasional bursts of torrential downpours. The sheets of rain falling from the sky raised the stench of death to a new level. 

It filled the man's nostrils - he had lain most of the night - in mud among corpses - bodies so disfigured by missile fire and mortar blasts that only God's angels knew who they were. Their loved ones certainly wouldn't. 

<<Did I know you?>> he wondered, looking at the ruins of human flesh. <<Is there anything familiar about you besides your uniforms and U.S. insignias?>> He reached out to finger a bit of burnt camouflage and thought better of it, not wanting to trespass on a passing soul. 

<<They're already dead, AJ.>> He nodded. <<I know. But they're still wandering overhead looking down at what they were.>>

<<Maudlin and introspective tonight, old man?>>

<<Who are you?>> he whispered in his head to the remains of war and bits of blood stained detritus lying on the ground. <<Who were you? You who were killed without discretion, without regard for man or country, without thought to kith and kin? Did you leave a wife and child behind? Will your mother weep? What color was your hair? Were your eyes open when it happened? Did the hell fires catch you in mid-prayer? Will your congressman pray for your soul, thank you for dying for a just and rightful cause? Did God see your limbs falter as the bullets cut you down? DID HE? DID HE?>>

He blinked back tears, a moment of sanity returning. <<Why are we fighting this war? Sometimes, I forget.>> Sighing heavily, he wondered when a Huey would swoop down and spot the carnage, and evacuate him and the dead. 

Present time  
JAG Ops  
Falls Church, Virginia

Admiral AJ Chegwidden, the Navy's Judge Advocate General would never, under any circumstances, call the FBI for assistance with an investigation - unless he was forced to do so. His hand had just been forced. The Secretary of the Navy had not only ordered him to call the Fibbies, but to cooperate with them as well. 

AJ snorted. <<As if I'd give the SecNav ammunition to ream me a new one.>> After the vituperative phone call finally ended, he paced back and forth, his anger festering, his rage bubbling to the surface. <<I hate those guys - goddamn police force in their shiny suits - always looking under rocks for dirt.>> He stopped his pacing and stood at his window, his arms crossed over his chest. He couldn't believe the SecNav wanted him to kowtow to the fucking FBI. Just the thought of it made him stand straighter, his spine stretched to its fullest. He thought it was amazing he never cracked a vertebra. 

"Stretch, Squid! That's an order!" AJ smiled, listening to the voice in his head commanding him to stretch. The memory of the hours he stood at attention at the Naval Academy when he was a lowly midshipman came to mind. 

"What are you, squid?" the unit commander shouted in his face.

"Squid, sir," Midshipman Chegwidden barked.

"What is the only thing a lowly squid is good for?" he demanded.

"Following orders, sir." 

"You're fuckin' A!"

AJ sneered. He'd follow orders. He'd call the fuckin' FBI, he'd cooperate. <<Like the shits don't have enough on their plates already - J. Edgar Hoover and his high heels! Goddammit! When the crew of a Navy submarine is suspected of smuggling contraband, and the sub's captain is on shore leave, found dead in a gay bar with his pants down...>>

"Christ! It's the Navy's problem, not the FBI's," he muttered. "Hell, by right, it should be NCIS' problem, not the FBI's! NCIS' General Criminal Investigation Unit is as fine, if not better than the FBI! Shit!" he swore. "I'll call the bastards."

4th Floor  
Hoover Building  
Washington, DC  
   
"Sir?" Kim's voice came over the phone set. "DD Kersh is on the line. He wants to speak to you before transferring a call."

"Do you know who the call is from?" AD Skinner asked his long time assistant.

"Yes, sir. It's an Admiral AJ Chegwidden with the Navy's Judge Advocate General's office."

<<Chegwidden?>> Walter Skinner's mouth curved into a rare smile. <<Wonder what the S.O.B. wants?>>

Vietnam  
Walter Skinner was exhausted. Separated from his unit, he lost count of the hours he had spent running, hiding, taking cover, his eyes wide and blood shot, his body totally drained. His backpack was heavy, laden with extra socks, a few 30-round clips for the M16, and by last count, not too many rations. And, he was soaked. 

He knew he couldn't make it any further. He needed sleep. He backed into the hollow of a gnarly tree trunk, covered himself with fronds, debris, branches, whatever he could find. <<Don't need to sleep too long. Just a couple hours.>> He pulled the pot off his head and held it in his lap, the steel helmet suddenly hot and heavy, and pulled out his last bit of beef jerky. Gnawing on the spicy tidbit, he wondered if he'd make it through the night. 

<<Don't let me die alone. Please don't let me die alone>> he prayed. <<Let me get through this.>>

"It's just another night, Walter. You can do this," the mysterious voice inside his head reprimanded him. "It's not like you're a green recruit."

<<One more night without music>> Walter thought. <<One more night without a lover. One more night without any guarantees, not even the certainty of tomorrow. Shit, will I make it through the night?>>

He pushed further back into the tree, grateful for the mortar blast that caused the hollow, hoping against hope the MiG-21's wouldn't be returning to strafe the area again before dawn. 

<<What the fuck am I doing here?>>

"Doing your duty, Walter. You're bound by your honor, your oath. You'll die for God and country. You'll die an honorable man," the voice whispered, its words chilling him, foretelling a death knell.

He didn't want to die. <<Will it be me who went down on this black night? Will it be me who failed to return from a mission? Will it be me who will be reported missing in the morning report? Good morning, Vietnam. Am I among the dead already? Have they already written me off? Am I MIA, never to be found?>>

He peered through the jungle cover, wondering if he closed his eyes, would he fade from the world, blend in with the tree, die a quiet death. 

<<God! It's a black and endless night. I need another look before I die. Is there time for one last prayer? Shit, there's no salvation in sight, no redemption... I wasn't a bad kid. No time... no goodbye to friends or foe, not even a fucking drink.>> He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Wishing for the dawn to hurry up wouldn't make it come any faster. 

Present time  
JAG Ops  
Falls Church, Virginia

AJ had purposely called Deputy Director Alvin Kersh. He had met the man once, thought he was an asshole, but an efficient one. He knew Walter Skinner worked for the FBI, but decided to take the matter through channels. He could have called Skinner, made unofficial inquiries about what the FBI knew regarding the sub and its crew and the captain and his sexual proclivities. But he didn't see any validity in making the call. He had never spoken to him after they parted. Years had passed and he had forgotten about him... until someone mentioned his name when he had been promoted to assistant director. It brought back a flood of memories... from that time in Vietnam.

Vietnam  
They almost killed each other. AJ was on his belly, binoculars focused on two VC junks floating on the river below him. The traditional Chinese vessel dated back thousands of years and was very much in use today. The VC found it to be a perfect craft for shipping supplies through the country's long and twisting rivers. AJ watched the activity on the river, his mind deep in thought when the hair stood up on the back of his neck. 

What looked like a log covered in debris, was inching its way toward him. It moved so slowly that AJ thought it would take close to an hour for it to reach him. He unsnapped his handgun and took aim. 

Walter was sure he saw miniscule movement on the upper bank, but he wasn't positive. He could shoot whatever it was, but that would only alarm any VC to his presence. He chose to get a little closer, his camouflaged M16 clutched in one hand.

AJ leaned on his elbows, his handgun back in its holster, and his rifle pointed at the moving log. He adjusted the scope, his finger on the trigger, and took aim. And then, he jerked back. The forward part of the log had risen slightly off the ground and he could have sworn it was pointing an M16 in his direction. <<Fuck! It's gotta be one of ours!>>

He sunk back to the ground, retreating, letting the jungle cover him, and waited for the "log" to come closer.

It took Walter over an hour to cover the distance between them. He was certain he had recognized the barrel of an M16 rifle, but he couldn't be positive. He had to get closer. The last thing he needed was a VC renegade on his trail. 

When he felt the nylon mesh fabric under his hand, Walter knew the "renegade" was one of the good guys. Only U.S. forces wore the specially designed nylon jungle boots, the Vietnamese wore sandals or went barefoot on their native turf.

AJ's other foot came down hard on Walter's hand as he pointed his handgun between his eyes. "Now's your chance to pledge allegiance or die, boy. What's it gonna' be?" 

"I pledge allegiance to the flag..."

"Can you sing our national anthem, shithead?"

"Yeah," Walter gasped, the pain in his hand making him see stars. "But you want to cover your ears when I get to the part about the "rocket's red glare."

AJ smirked. "Let go of the rifle. Get up slow and easy. Let me see your ugly puss." 

Walter released the weapon, sat up, and then slowly stood, some of the camouflage dropping off his body.

AJ pulled the rest of the crap off of him. "Humph," he snorted. "Should have known. A fuckin' jarhead." 

"Corporal Walter Skinner, United States Marine Corps."

"Sir!" AJ snapped.

Walter looked at the man in front of him, wondering if conditions really warranted that kind of courtesy. "Sir," he added. "And you are...?"

Lieutenant AJ Chegwidden, United States Navy, SeAL Team 3." AJ said proudly, his chin high. 

"And a fuckin' squid," Walter added, looking at the equally dirty and disheveled man. "A fuckin' squid, SIR!"

AJ chuckled. "Come on, boy. Let's get a little further away from the VC over there," he pointed at the river junks in the distance.

When they thought they found safe haven, they stopped for the night and swapped stories. Both had been separated from their buddies. Walter had lost most of his unit to mortar fire; AJ was part of the special forces sent in to clean up particular hot spots. Both were weary, very lonely and hoped to make it through another night. 

"We could die before sun up, boy." 

Walter grunted. He was hoping to make it through the next hour. If he saw the dawn, he'd consider it a miracle.

They made it through the night and the next day, and the day after that. Slowly, they wound their way through the VC's jungle, hoping against hope for signs of friendly fighting units. They were exhausted from the strain of belly walking their way to safer ground, and the constant scurry to hide when the enemy unexpectedly showed its face. 

"Are we going to make it through the night, Lieutenant?" Walter asked one more time.

"Don't know, boy. We'll see."

"Don't call me boy, Lieutenant. Call me Corporal or call me Walter. I'm not a boy." He spoke softly, his calm voice hiding the fear and the rage festering just below the surface of his sanity.

"You think my calling you Corporal is gonna' make you die any easier? You think it's gonna' make you die with dignity?" AJ snorted. 

Walter grabbed him by the throat. "Yeah, I do."

AJ knew the jarhead had been through Parris Island. That meant the boy had some decent training, but he wasn't a match for the SeAL, a graduate of the highest trained fighting force in the world. When the jarhead's hands went around his neck, he leaned his head back against a tree and without a hint of his intention, grabbed Walter's balls and squeezed.

"You like that, Lieutenant?" Walter bluffed, gasping at the sudden pain in his groin and removing his hand from AJ's throat. "You like jarhead cock? You want to see whose is bigger? You want me to jerk you off? You like it that way?" his voice turned into a sneer.

AJ squeezed harder. "Yeah, I like to make jarheads squeal, you asshole," he dropped his hand in disgust. "Get some sleep. It's gonna' be a short night."

Present Time  
4th Floor  
Hoover Building  
Washington, DC

If there was anything an agent worth his salt knew, it was that the FBI worked their own goddamn cases. From the Director all the way down the chain of command, everyone in the FBI hated interference from other agencies. AD Walter Skinner was no exception. He was royally pissed to have to baby-sit a bunch of legal sailors on this case. It was a clear case of smuggling. The idiots had taken drugs, guns and god knows what else out of an evidence lockup aboard a civilian ship, stored it on a Navy submarine, and smuggled it into the United States. If that wasn't enough, they distributed it to various states along the eastern seaboard when they were on liberty. <<Stupid fucks!>> Once the illegal contraband crossed state lines, it was a matter for the FBI. 

<<What the fuck - its one of their ships - what the hell kind of asshole makes captain and thinks he can get away with this? Then, the stupid shit gets himself killed in a gay bar with his fuckin' pants down. Could it get any worse?>> AD Skinner didn't want anything to do with this farce, but the order had come from the top. 

"Cooperate with them," DD Kersh told him. "We don't need any more bad publicity. Need I remind you about Waco and Ruby Ridge?"

Walter knew AJ was the Navy's JAG. He had known who he was from the moment the man had transferred from head of JAG Pacific to head up JAG ops at Falls Church. He knew when the man moved into his office; he knew where he lived and how much he paid for his house. He knew about the urologist he used to date, his previous marriage and divorce, his daughter's whereabouts, as well as the asshole kid who stole his car to transport marijuana. There wasn't much Walter didn't know about the man. He was FBI, after all. 

<<But you never called him>> the mysterious voice in his head reminded. <<Why not? Didn't you like what you did with him "in-country," boy?>>

"Shit!" he muttered softly. "That was a couple of lifetimes ago. I was a kid.>>

<<So was he, Walt, old man. A kid just a little older than you with a little more experience than you, but still a kid.>>

He listened to Kersh's directive, then waited for Kim to transfer the call. 

"Skinner," he answered when he pressed the button for the appropriate line.

"AD Skinner? AJ Chegwidden, Judge Advocate General, U.S. Navy. I believe we have some business to discuss."

<<Unfinished business, AJ?>> Walter's mouth curved. 

"So I've been told," he agreed. "Shall we meet formally or would you like to meet for a drink first, talk about old times?"

"I wouldn't mind meeting for a drink," AJ replied, leaning back in his leather chair, "but forget the rest. We hated our old times, no sense rehashing it." <<No sense rehashing *any* of it.>>

Vietnam   
The VC swarmed everywhere. The young SeAL and the even younger Marine had inadvertently crawled into hundreds of them on maneuvers, deadly men honing their killing skills. They had to stay hidden another day and night, the squid and the jarhead against the enemy. It took their combined energy just to remain still, secreted in bush and dirt. They kept themselves covered and cramped into a space so small, they could feel each other's chest heave with every breath. AJ lay behind Walter, his arms around the younger man's chest, squeezed into a hole he hoped wouldn't be their mutual grave. 

By nightfall, they were exhausted from the strain of remaining motionless, and from the stress of trying to stay alive. The jungle sounds faded, but the adrenaline continued to course through their bodies. They had been in the same position for too many hours and Walter was so cramped for space, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand again. He was at the edge of his sanity and the man behind him grated on his nerves, telling him what to do, how to crawl, how to breathe, and how to die. He was ready to strangle the squid. 

Finally, he managed to stretch his legs, and turned over to face AJ. When he did, he felt a rock hard cock pressed against his own burgeoning erection. He jerked back and away from the SeAL.

AJ chuckled softly. "First time you ever felt another man's cock, boy?"

Walter remained silent.

"That's what happens when you think you're gonna' die," he rasped. "Your blood screams in your ears, your lungs grab all the air it can get, your heart pounds, and your cock gets hard. It's as good a time as any to feel the little death before you die." 

He reached down between them and grabbed Walter's cock. "Yeah, you're ready. Let's see what you've got." He jerked at Walter's pants until they opened and Walter's cock sprung free. He loosened his own clothing and arched his hips against the marine. "Don't just lay there like a log, jarhead," he hissed as he grabbed the man's erection. "Act like you know what to do!"

Walter hesitated only a moment and then grabbed AJ's hard cock. His hands tightened around the thickened shaft and he pumped him. All his rage and the frustration of the last few days centered on his hands as he moved them up and down and hard and rough. 

"Don't jerk it off, boy," AJ groused, but reciprocated, one hand squeezing and rubbing the marine's cock, the other rolling and squeezing his balls. 

"Harder," AJ grunted. "Faster. That's an order, jarhead!" And he showed Walter what he wanted.

Walter was a fast learner. He hated to admit that AJ knew what he was doing. <<Shit! This is good!>> He was so damn hard, climbing, bursting with sensation, the pleasure sweeping through him -almost there.

"Don't scream," AJ gasped. "Whatever you do, keep your mouth shut!" He barely got the words out before he compressed his own lips, his hot breath escaping in snorts, his throat making grunting sounds, and he climaxed with a shudder that rocked his entire body. His head came up fast when he felt the other man's teeth in his shoulder. 

Walter's roar had been muffled by AJ's body, his teeth buried in the SeAL's heavy cotton uniform. Both sets of hands, coated and sticky, remained on each other's cocks. Their bodies were wet from the exertion, their breath hot on each other's neck, and the combined heat of their bodies burning off the remainder of their energy.

Finally, they relaxed, leaned against each other and took short even breaths. Walter started to turn away from the man he hated and suddenly loved for making him feel like a man again. AJ pulled him back, reaching below Walter's cock and cupped his balls. 

"Again," he said. "We're gonna' do this again." He cupped the marine's balls, rolling them gently, and applied intermittent pressure on the sensitive sac.

Walter groaned. 

AJ chuckled softly. "I knew you could go again. With balls like these, you can probably go for hours."

Walter stroked AJ's heavy sac. "You, too," he muttered.

"Yeah," AJ agreed. "Me, too."

Eyes closed, their hands compared penises, fingers stroking, measuring length and girth, and each finding the other equally well endowed. Neither could understand why that was a pleasant revelation, but one of them voiced the thought and they both chuckled. 

"Must be the war," AJ commented dryly.

"Yeah, the war," Walter agreed. "The fuckin' war!"

"Where're you from, jarhead?"

"Texas."

"Should have known," AJ snorted, his fingers stroking Walter's cock again. "So am I. Guess they grow these things big in the Lone Star State."

Twice more they arched their hips into each other's hands, once again fast and hard and rough, seeking relief from the stains of war left on their souls. They dozed a while and sought release again, this time, slow and easy, minds drifting, thoughts evaporating in the heat of their pleasure. Four rough and callused hands stroked and fondled, neither eager to tease or be teased, neither really looking for pleasure, both simply seeking release. 

"Too many dead and wounded in this war," AJ commented. "Too many missing and maimed," Walter reflected. "We're fighting a war that was fuckin' legislated!" AJ grumbled. "I keep forgetting why we're here," Walter commented softly. They finally slept, their bodies held in each other's embrace, their arms having nowhere else to go. It was mutual need and mutual loneliness, one of the many costs of war, the price of freedom escalating on a daily basis. They slept like the dead, fighting their demons and their nightmares. They were two men among thousands fighting a war they found baffling and tedious, a war that was ungodly and deadly and unforgettable. 

Present time   
JAG Ops  
Falls Church, Virginia

They met formally at JAG ops. AJ greeted Walter at the door of his office, a hand extended, and a slight smile on his lips. "AD Skinner," he addressed the man with the same formality he reserved for the Secretary of the Navy. 

"Admiral Chegwidden," Walter greeted him, his handshake firm, and his expression neutral. 

They openly eyed each other, each sizing up the other man, assessing stance and demeanor, and reflecting on status, position and power. 

"Hard to believe we're both lawyers," AJ commented dryly.

"Hard to believe we both lost our hair," Walter smirked.

AJ chuckled. "You've come a long way, jarhead," he said softly.

"So have you, squid," Walter smiled. He sat when AJ gestured toward the chair in front of the fireplace. AJ joined him, sitting back to continue appraising the former marine.

"How come you stayed in the Navy, Admiral?" Walter crossed one leg over the other, more relaxed than he had anticipated he'd be about meeting the sailor who helped keep him alive in Nam.

"Long story," AJ replied. "What made you go to law school?"

"Another long story," Walter smiled. "Shall we get to work?"

AJ nodded. They had been as polite as courtesy demanded. Both had a job to do; neither wanted to work with the other, but they both followed orders.

"What do you know about this?" AJ asked, his voice calmer than his thoughts.

"The facts are as follows," Walter answered and enumerated them, his own voice of command firmly in place.

AJ listened, occasionally commented, and found that he agreed with what he heard. <<Jarhead made something of himself. Man's a class act.>>

Walter talked, the facts easily spilling from his mouth and assessed the Admiral. <<The last time I saw this squid, he was one hard-assed Lieutenant. He's come a long way since Nam.>>

"Autopsy results were inconclusive as to cause of death," Walter added as he finished summing up the case file as the FBI knew it.

"I have a forensic pathologist I can call on who knows her stuff." AJ stated. "I can..." 

"So do I, but the crime scene has long since been contaminated and the gay bar is back in business. Won't do us any good."

"Has the captain been buried yet?" AJ asked.

"No, the morgue's holding his body until we have a little more data."

"Fine, I'll call Commander Coulter and get her in on it. She has a way with dead bodies."

"Teresa Coulter?" Walter arched a brow.

"Yeah. You know her?" AJ was suddenly curious.

"She worked a case with us in Memphis not long ago. Works for the Memphis PD. Did a fine job, too."

"Glad to hear that. The Commander is a reservist and has always come through for the Navy."

"Agent Dana Scully is on my immediate staff. It seems she and Dr. Coulter went to med school together." Walter shook his head and then smiled broadly. "Two beautiful women." He eyed the Admiral who had arched a brow at the remark. "It isn't necessary to pass that opinion on to the Commander."

AJ smiled. "Don't worry. I'll keep your dark and secret admiration to myself. Between the two of them, we should find out everything we need to know."

They discussed the case, planned their strategies, and decided what the Navy would do and what the FBI would do and agreed to meet again.

"Next time, we'll meet on your stomping grounds," AJ offered. He looked at his watch. "Ready for that drink?"

"As a matter of fact, I am," Walter agreed. "Lead the way."

Vietnam  
They made it through one more day, crawling on their bellies, under cover, and around the VC. They slithered over the jungle's rot and corpses, a lot of corpses, some belonging to the enemy, some to the good guys. The stench of decay poisoned their breath, making them retch, and made them question the worthiness of war. 

"Are we gonna' die, AJ?" Walter asked with a weary sigh when they stopped for the night, the jungle closing in around them. "We're gonna die this time, aren't we?"

"No we're not!" AJ barked, as if ordering the Almighty to do his bidding. But, I'm gonna' tell you what we *are* gonna' do." He pushed Walter against the trunk of a wide tree. "I'm gonna' fuck you, boy."

"Boy?" Walter snorted, ignoring AJ's harsh breath and his hard cock pressing into his belly. "I'm an old man. This country has turned me into an old man." 

"Don't blame it on the country, marine. It wasn't the country that made you old before your time. It's the war, plain and simple." He pulled Walter toward him and flipped him onto his belly. Walter didn't protest. He was too exhausted.

AJ jerked Walter's pants down and then his own. He reached around the man's hips and squeezed his cock. Walter gasped, AJ's hold on him rough and harsh. When Walter's cock was as hard as his was, he spread his butt cheeks and with no hesitation or warning, shoved his hard cock into the man's ass. 

Walter moaned, his body burning from the pain and the pleasure it brought.

"Is this how you like it boy?" AJ breathed in his ear. "Hard and rough? Huh? Is this how you need it, boy? Tell me, jarhead. Is this good?" 

Walter was having trouble breathing. The pain was replaced by pleasure; AJ's hand pumped him. He was climbing...

"Hump for it, boy."

He wanted to hump for it. He wanted to back his ass into AJ, match him thrust for thrust but he couldn't make himself do that. He wanted to ignore the good feeling of having his cock stroked, his ass throbbing, his prostate tingling.

"Hump for it, boy," AJ hissed, "or I'll squeeze your nuts until you scream. Do. You. Hear. Me?" 

Walter heard him. He pushed back into AJ's hips, his butt hitting the man's belly, AJ's balls slapping his ass.

"Feel it, boy? Does it hurt good? Does it? Tell me, goddamnit!"

He told him, not in so many words but in his body's release. AJ squeezed him hard and he spilled into the man's hand. AJ fucked him hard and flooded his ass. And then, he fucked him again, collapsing on top of him. "Did you like that, boy?" he rasped. "Did you get some pleasure out of this fuckin' war?"

Walter didn't answer. He had passed out from exhaustion, from pain and from pleasure.

The next morning, he rolled out from under the slumbering SeAL, turned over and straddled his ass. "My turn, old man," he growled, then shoved AJ's thighs apart and rammed his cock home. "Let's see if you can take it as well as you dish it out."

AJ felt like an old man. He was old in the ways of war, worn out by what he had seen, hardened by what he had done, and feeling ancient for a 23-year old. The 20-year old Walter pumped into him and he relished the pain the younger man inflicted on him. He welcomed the pain. Two hard bodies - Walter pounding into him, thrusting his hips forward, his muscles straining. AJ's ass burned. It felt good - this sudden pain in a body that had been numb, paralyzed by fear and loneliness and no promises for tomorrow. 

Present time  
McMurphy's Tavern  
Washington, DC

They wanted Scotch but settled on beer. They talked about the war, the buddies they left behind, and the Wall where fifty-eight thousand names had been carved into granite. They reminisced about the jungle, the heat, the humidity, and the rains. They tried to laugh at the food they ate to stay alive, but it wasn't funny. They pointed to various body parts, assuring the other that one scar was bigger than another. They told each other that they had lost count of how many times they had been shot and knifed, and more important, what they had done to disarm and kill the enemy. AJ believed every word Walter said. Walter believed every word AJ said. They had both been there, alive and in fear among so many dead, and lived to tell the tales. 

They didn't talk about what they had done to each other. They didn't talk about jerking each other off or fucking each other's ass. It didn't happen. AJ was an admiral and the Judge Advocate General of the United States Navy; Walter was an Assistant Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It didn't happen.

But it did. And, they both knew it. 

Vietnam  
The night was black. Not just dark, but black. The midnight blackness lingered as they talked quietly. They knew they were lucky to live one more day of war, survive one more day in a foreign land where no one wanted them. They lay facing each other, trying to stay as compressed as possible into another small space that wasn't big enough for two very tall and muscular men. They knew they'd fuck each other again, not sure yet who would be first, who would be last. There was violence in the act, violence they purposely created, both needing those few minutes of rough joining in an effort to block out the hell fires of their lives. 

"How did we reach this point?" AJ asked quietly, looking deep into Walter's eyes.

Walter didn't answer, returning AJ's look and wondering what he meant. <<What point? The war? Or the fucking?>>

The dawn was a long time coming. 

Present Time  
McMurphy's Tavern  
Washington, DC

They finished off their second pitcher, still remembering the events they shared and survived in Nam. 

"If we're gonna' get drunk," AJ finally said, "let's do it at your place or mine. That way, when we crash, we'll still be alive in the morning."

"Good idea, Chegwidden. Which one?" He tipped his head back and drained his glass.

"Where do you live, jarhead?"

"Crystal City."

"I live in McLean. Let's toss a coin." He pulled a quarter out of his pocket. Call it."

Walter followed AJ to McLean. He eyed the wood and stone house and admired the homey wraparound porch. He thought it looked cozy, like a good place to read the paper on a lazy Sunday morning.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll pour the Scotch." AJ tossed his cover and jacket, and loosened his tie.

Walter looked around, his eyes taking in the pictures on the mantle, the soft throw on the back of a leather couch, and the books. "A lot of books, Admiral," he commented, scanning a few titles. "Do you read anything besides Navy propaganda?" he smiled, picking up a biography of Admiral Arleigh Burke.

"Yeah, I like real crime stories, too. I especially like the ones where the FBI fucks up."

"Still the hard-assed Lieutenant, sir?" Walter sneered, feeling the beer.

"Not any more," AJ grinned. "Now, I'm a hard-assed admiral and currently, you're on my turf, jarhead." He handed Walter a tall one.

"I see you've kept in shape, Walter. The FBI make you pass physical endurance tests?" He knew damn well the FBI insisted on physical fitness but he enjoyed playing with the man's head.

"Yeah, I'm fit, squid. You want to find out how fit I am?" 

AJ arched a brow. "You gonna' try to take me on, jarhead?" His voice was deceptively soft. 

Walter wasn't sure if there was a dare implied in AJ's voice, but he was feeling cocky and confident. He wasn't 20-years old any more. He knew the score, he knew his strength and he knew he liked being in control.

AJ leaned against the fireplace mantle and sipped his drink. He appraised the man he knew a lifetime ago. It had been another time, another place, a hell they had survived and a lot of memories neither wanted to remember. He had forgotten a lot of the details where Skinner was concerned; that is, until he laid eyes on him again. <<Same tight ass, same muscled thighs and that strong stride. Yeah, I remember him.>>

"Come on, jarhead," AJ taunted, setting his glass on the mantle. "Let's see what you've got." 

Walter narrowed his eyes at him. The words came back to him and they enraged him. He charged forward, punched AJ in the gut and then slammed him back up against the stone face of the fireplace. "What I got is better than you remember, old man! What I got is bigger, thicker, stronger, and you're gonna' love it when I shove it up your ass!" 

"You can try," AJ gasped and leaned heavily on Walter's shoulders, feigning collapse. Walter grabbed AJ's arms, supporting his weight but forgot that SeALs fight dirty. AJ kneed him in the groin, purposely hitting his cock and not his balls. Walter sunk to his knees and AJ cold cocked him. 

"Still a goddamn green recruit, you stupid fuck!" he said to the former marine passed out on his living room floor. "Didn't anyone ever show you how to fight to win?" he snorted. "Could have sworn they'd have taught you better than that in boot camp. Shit! I know girls who fight better than you," he sneered.

Vietnam  
Just when they thought they were alone in the jungle, they heard the faint sounds of fighters somewhere in the distance. MiG-21s were in the air, the Vietnamese and renegade Soviet pilots swooping low in the skies. AJ knew they generally fought the war at much higher altitudes but they had two reasons for flying lower. The first was to strafe the countryside and provide cover for their troops to move forward; the second was to avoid the F-4 Phantom fighters. The U.S. Phantoms dominated the skies of South Vietnam with their air power and were generally successful in suppressing the enemy's anti-aircraft fire. AJ could only hope they were avoiding the F-4s. He and Walter wouldn't be able to survive one more strafing. Their hiding place was becoming more vulnerable by the minute.

They watched the skies from their covered site, both hoping it wasn't the last thing they saw before dying. The adrenaline level was high, their stomachs churning with it, making them swallow bile. 

"Is this it, AJ?" Walter asked quietly, almost resigned to die but knowing he would run, fight, maim, and kill till his dying breath. 

"Not yet, Marine," he barked. "Not quite yet. Follow me! That's an order!" 

"Aye-aye, squid, sir!" Walter barked back, and crawled on his hands and knees, following the SeAL's butt as AJ dug their way out of the jungle's undergrowth. 

Once more, they managed to hide deep in the forest. Once more, they shared what little rations and precious water they had left. Once more they dug into the jungle's undergrowth and hid in its foliage. Once more, they took turns in each other's bodies, seeking physical release and mental relief from a war that held them captive in another time and place.

"You're gonna' cave for me, boy!" AJ's words filled his ears as he pumped into him, his thick cock filling Walter's ass. "You're gonna' gasp for breath. You're gonna' gulp air when you come, but you better not scream, boy! If you do, I'll kill you myself!"

Walter didn't scream, not then. But, when it was his turn to play big man on top, his temper and his libido warred with his need to be quiet. He hissed in AJ's ear. "You like this, Lieutenant Squid? You like my cock in your ass? Do you?" He pumped the man with all the energy his rage could muster. His hips moved swiftly, his cock deep inside him, pulling back and almost out and pushing forward again and again. His breath was heavy on AJ's neck and his hands roughly pumped the SeAL's cock. He wanted AJ to hurt like he hurt; he wanted him to feel the pleasure like he felt it. He wanted to fuck him the way he had been fucked. "Did I stretch your ass, sailor boy? Did I make your ass burn? Did I?"

AJ couldn't speak. The pleasure outweighed the pain. His ass was on fire, but it was a good fire. His cock was being rubbed raw and it hurt good, the heat between their two bodies all that mattered because it made them feel and if they could feel, they knew they were still alive. 

Present Time  
Chegwidden Residence  
McLean, Virginia  
    
When he regained consciousness, he was laying on AJ's bed, aware that he was fully clothed except for his jacket and shoes. The squid was nowhere in sight. He sat up, rubbing his jaw. It had been a long time since someone had knocked him out.

"I see you're still among the living," AJ snorted as Walter padded into the kitchen. "Wanna' drink?" he offered a glass of scotch on the rocks.

"Thanks," Walter murmured, taking a long swallow, and wincing slightly as the booze burned its way from his throat to his gut.

"How come you didn't put me on the couch?" he asked when he drained half his glass.

"'Cause if I did that, you'd probably just turn over and go back to sleep. I figured if you woke up in my bed, you'd be all over my ass thinking I'd fucked you and you didn't get a chance to enjoy it."

Walter slammed his glass down on the kitchen counter and pushed AJ against the wall. "You've been playing the "top" all day, Chegwidden. You think you're hot shit? I'm going to show you just what hot shit is all about." He pushed his own hard erection against AJ's and both moaned at the contact. "You want this, squid?" he hissed. "You want me to fuck your ass? You want me to remind you what we did almost thirty years ago? Do you?" 

AJ threw his head back and laughed. "I know you want it, BOY!" He moved so suddenly, Walter didn't have a chance to react. AJ pushed Walter's hand away from his crotch and grabbed the former marine's balls. Squeezing with just enough pressure to make Walter gasp, he ordered the man to unbuckle both belts. "Drop em, boy." 

Walter dropped them. AJ shoved him against the table and loosened his hold on Walter's balls just long enough to turn the man over. "You want this, boy?" he hissed, his cock pressing into Walter's ass. "You want it here, on the table, hard and rutting like dogs? Just like we did in Nam? Or you want it more civilized, on the bed, a soft mattress, with a condom and lube? Your call, jarhead."

"Christ, AJ. Get the fuck off of me. You weigh a ton and a half! You're going to break my back." He muttered under his breath, "If I'm going to be on the bottom, there'd better be a hot looking broad riding my cock, not an ugly squid like you."

Laughing softly, AJ let him up and pushed him toward the bedroom. "You can top next time," he assured him.

They casually stripped to boxers and T-shirts, folded their clothing over a chair, and fell onto the bed together. This time, in this place, in this world, they had no reason to rush. No VC units were after them. They weren't in any hurry to live their last hurrahs or breathe their last breaths. They didn't have to make new memories; they had plenty of old ones.

They could have been brothers, these two men of power. They were more alike than they realized, both tall and bald and muscular. They both excelled at what they did, and were fiercely loyal and protective of their people. Under other circumstances, they might have become very close friends. 

They spoke softly, remembering the war, and their narrow escapes from death and their mutual need for physical release. Walter knew if it wasn't for AJ, he'd be dead. AJ knew meeting Walter had helped him maintain his sanity in a world where only chaos reigned. Neither mentioned they lived like animals to survive, nor did they talk about their need to touch and be touched by another warm human being. 

Vietnam   
Walter remembered how AJ had fucked his ass when he was still green. <<Was it just a week ago?>> He hadn't been green about the war; it didn't take long to learn more than any man should ever know about its atrocities. No, he wasn't green about the war; he'd been green about cocks and asses and male fucking. No one had ever done more than goosed him when he was a kid. No one would have dared. Walter would have beat the shit out of anyone who tried. But things were different in Nam. When you think you've about to draw your last breath, anything goes - even a SeAL's thick cock in your virgin ass.

They had slept fitfully, both with an eye open, and ears tuned for sounds of the enemy. Eventually, exhaustion and anxiety warred. One or the other would sleep for a few minutes, wake with a start, and listen to the sounds of the night. Both assessed each sound, trying to pinpoint the locations, wondering which belonged to the jungle and which to the enemy. Just before dawn, AJ reached between Walter's thighs. "One more time, jarhead," he said softly. "Before we die."

They jerked each other off like there was no tomorrow. For them, there was no tomorrow. The odds of their dying before the sun rose were growing by the second. They were surrounded and had run out of hiding places. Their food was gone, and their ammunition almost completed. So they rubbed each other's cocks, squeezed each other's balls and hissed their release. Neither wanted to die alone. Neither wanted to die. They needed a miracle.

AJ figured it was just wishful thinking when he heard the chopper's blades. The U.S. Hueys weren't supposed to fly this deep in-country unless friendly troops were in the area. But there it was, and it was almost on top of them. He leaped to his feet, dragging Walter with him and ran toward the big chopper. Suddenly, salvation was in sight as they ran a zigzag pattern, trying to dodge enemy fire, hoping against hope to leap aboard the low flying aircraft. The pilot maneuvered the clumsy bird, covering their escape with gunfire until the chopper was finally in position to shield them and they were able to hurl their bodies on board.

"Permission to come aboard," AJ snapped a salute once they were airborne.

"Permission granted, sir," the marine gunnery sergeant smiled, handing canteens over to the men. 

"Who did we save, Gunny?" the naval aviator asked as he flew away from the enemy's skies.

"Just a squid and a jarhead, sir." 

Present Time  
Chegwidden Residence  
McLean, Virginia

They didn't have to do this. Almost thirty years later, they didn't have to do this. But when they looked at each other's naked bodies, they didn't see the here and now. AJ wasn't a two-star admiral; he was a tall, lean SeAL, a young man fighting a war he had been ordered to fight, and fighting for his life. He'd do anything to stay alive, anything to remain sane, and he did. 

Walter was no longer an FBI bigwig. He was a young marine, green in the ways of men fucking men. He looked at AJ and memories of Nam flooded his brain, rage from the war resurfacing. He gave no warning as he jumped AJ, straddling his hips, and pinning him down. It wasn't easy. AJ was in tip-top shape, but so was Walter. "Is this how you like it, boy?" Walter growled, roughly grabbing AJ's cock. 

"Yeah, I do," AJ said when he could take a breath, Walter's hand squeezing him too hard. "This is just the way I like it, shithead," he swore, tossing Walter onto his back and returning the favor. "This is how I remember it, too, hard and rough." 

AJ had been in Vietnam less than 48 hours and on patrol when two randy marines had wrestled him to the ground. They had fucked his ass, his official welcome to Southeast Asia and his initiation into ways of war he hadn't learned at the Naval Academy. That experience and the few days he spent with Walter were the only times he had been with a man. He didn't have to think about it; he definitely preferred women.

Walter had the same memories. His only sexual forays with another male were with AJ in Vietnam. He was going to strangle the son of a bitch! 

Walter's arms came down around AJ's neck but before he could squeeze the living shit out of the former SeAL, AJ growled at him. "For chrissakes, don't you dare kiss me!" he said with obvious disgust.

Walter gave a shout of laughter. "Shit, AJ! When I'm naked and about to be fucked, I want to see something sweet and soft looking down at me. I want to see nice round breasts and a pretty face. I sure as hell don't want to see your ugly puss."

AJ grunted. When he was on top, he wanted to see the same thing when he looked at the woman under him. 

He got off of Walter's chest and leaned back against the headboard. He stretched the length of the bed, his hands behind his head, his legs bent, and his thighs apart. Walter kneeled between AJ's legs and spoke softly.

"One more time, squid? Before we die?" His commanding voice made it sound more like an order than a request. 

"Think you can take me on, jarhead?" AJ whispered, his stern tone just as commanding. He took a deep breath. His abs tensed, his huge biceps flexed, and the tip of his tongue sneaked between his lips as he contemplated the muscular man looking at him.

"Stroke me, AJ," Walter murmured as he released his cock. "Rub me raw the way you did in Nam, the way you did when we had minutes to live." He leaned over the man lying on his back. "Do. It. Now." he ordered and grabbed AJ's cock.

AJ shoved him out of his face and put a large hand around the thick cock Walter offered. He squeezed the man's balls until Walter gasped and then he matched him, stroke for stroke, rubbing him raw. "Is this how you like it, boy? Is this good? You like this, jarhead?"

"Yeah, this was like it was when we stared eternity in the face." Walter groaned, his hips pushing into AJ's hand, seeking release. Yeah, squid, this is good." 

Vietnam  
The Huey brought them to safety, dropping them off at a waylay station where Walter could reconnect with what was left of his unit, and AJ with his SeAL Team. They turned away from each other without a word. Walter got about ten feet away before he paused, turned back and called AJ's name.

"Lieutenant Chegwidden!" 

AJ turned to look at the marine he had spent the last week with, the man he had touched and who had touched him more intimately than any other person.

"Thanks for saving my sorry butt. Thanks for..."

He gave him a curt nod. "Take care of yourself, jarhead."

Present Time  
4th Floor  
Hoover Building  
Washington, DC

"Admiral Chegwidden to see you, sir," Kim announced when Walter answered the phone.

"Send him in."

"AD Skinner," AJ greeted, extending his hand as he entered Walter's office.

"Admiral," Walter nodded, offering a chair. "Good of you to drop by on such short notice."

"I understand you have the necessary evidence to take this case to court?"

"Yes, and the autopsy results from Commander Coulter regarding the sub's captain match the results Agent Scully found. We're ready to turn everything over to the Navy's tribunal. You'll prosecute?" he asked.

"My office will," AJ replied, "and defend as well. I assure you, there will be a fair hearing, and probably more than one court martial."

"That's it, then," Walter said, handing over a copy of the file. "I'll have official documents signed and delivered to your office in the morning."

"We could have done this over the phone, Walter." AJ said, crossing one leg over the other, his eyes narrowing as he eyed the assistant director.

"We could have," Walter agreed.

"Why didn't you?" AJ asked softly.

"Wanted to fuck with your head, squid."

AJ smirked. "For old time's sake, jarhead?"

"Yeah, for old time's sake, squid."

End

  
Archived: August 25, 2001 


End file.
